


Seeds of Destruction

by Ebyru



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Gen, Insanity, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Slash, Spoilers, Whump, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar's intention is to bring the worst out of everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds of Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I don't know where this came from.   
> I wanted it to end more slashy, or at least happier..but it didn't happen.   
> beta'd by my friend midorihaven. :)

Peter should have known better. 

It’s never the reason you think it is. Besides, he had the sick feeling he’d been watched time and time again. It was partly his fault for not paying attention; his instinct has always been right.

It was never about the cheerleader – _Claire_. Even the seers of the future were wrong about that. It was for Peter. Sylar wanted to hit Peter where it hurt the most: his family.

Nathan was too easy; basically a bird with no feathers. Angela would dream it the moment Sylar would even _consider_ coming after her, and they’d all be on his trail after that. Claire had to be the one, and no-one could predict whether she’d die or not once Sylar had his way. 

(That was the main thrill of it; it was all so new, so refreshing.)

 

~*~*~

 

Claire doesn’t die, fortunately for Peter, and perhaps that’s what drives Sylar to taking one of the more vulnerable Petrellis’ lives. And who better to erase than the one man Peter has always forgiven and stood by, even in the worst of occasions: Nathan – the man of flight.

And, _boy_ , does Sylar hit the mark then. 

Peter is transformed, broken, captivating in his misery to the point that Sylar wonders why he hadn’t considered doing this from the beginning. It’s probably Sylar’s morbid fascination with Peter, but watching a hero at the very pinnacle of reason and goodness fall down to the depths of hell, courting the devil reincarnate because he has no more strength to persist and bring his morals to the forefront…it’s like a dream come true to Sylar.

Finally someone can be down and dirty with Sylar; nothing’s going to hold Peter back anymore. This is what Sylar watched, waited, and planned for. Now comes the moment he’s been living for: the downfall and inevitable destruction of the _light_ to Sylar’s _darkness_. Not that there’s much light left in Peter’s spirit, but there’s enough to have made it all worthwhile.

Peter does not let Sylar down.

He’s cruel, bordering on psychotic – much like Sylar on a good day – and he doesn’t mind Sylar’s screams of agony or his fake pleas for forgiveness. Peter is intent on ripping out everything that is aching inside himself by assaulting Sylar’s flesh and bone. And Sylar is riveted by this magnificently cold-hearted supposed- _empath_. 

Why, they should have been doing this all along!

Sylar’s teeth are stained red, but he laughs in Peter’s face, blow after blow only painful for a moment, quickly swallowed up by the growing pride in Sylar’s chest. _He_ ’s done this to Peter. He’s succeeded in breaking the one man who could always stay strong and true – and pathetic, if you ask Sylar – never letting things perturb him more than necessary.

Peter heaves in a breath after each hit, his knuckles sticky and red with Sylar’s blood, face contorted with hatred and newly sown grief. 

The next blow does hurt more than the others, but it’s not because Peter’s hitting any harder, nor is it because he’s using any of his various powers – he made it clear he wanted to tear the life out of Sylar with his normal, scarred hands – it hurts because Sylar isn’t enjoying it as much anymore. It’s not how he expected it would feel.

  


_ Deep down— _

_   
_

Sylar laughs, harsh and insane, piercing even to his own ears, hysterical even some would say. Peter startles, falling out of his trance, suddenly aware of the crumpled and battered form below him. 

Did it take him this long to realize Sylar wasn’t going to fight back? 

Pity. It would have been the best gift to die at Peter’s hand, piling on the guilt, and reminding Peter of how far he’s truly fallen in his disgraceful excuse for an existence. Some saviour Peter would be then. Alone, and _killing_ because of it.

Peter looks at his hands, shaking and indescribably ruined with someone else’s blood; recognition travels across Peter’s face in a flash, and Sylar frowns. Sickeningly, Peter’s reaction – pure and raw, and just what you’d expect from old Peter – comforts Sylar.

  


_ —maybe he wants Peter to always stay above all this madness, this violence. Peter needs to stay above Sylar so he can look up and admire, trying to reach that summit one day. _

_   
_

Sylar retaliates by slicing Peter’s chest open with a pocket knife he’s had the entire time. Peter doesn’t even seem surprised when Sylar does it, and somehow, seeing that, it feels like balance has been restored. Sylar leaves the rundown building before the ambulance arrives for the injured Petrelli.

They’ll have other days to finish what they started.


End file.
